The adventure of the Mad Arabs Manuscript
by ProfessorMoriarty42
Summary: There are more things in heaven and earth then are dreamt of in your philosophy." Sherlock Holmes is just about to find out that for himself when confronted with the cult of Cthulhu.....


I don't own Sherlock Holmes or the Lovecraft mythos but if I did, I'd turn them both into movies by now. With that said, enjoy.

"-Just a dream and nothing more."

And it was with those words that I retired for the night. But please excuse me, my name is Dr John H. Watson and tonight's tale is one that I have long suppressed at the insistence of Holmes. It was during one of those long spells between cases and my friend was less then happy over it all. I was reading my book, one of Mr. Poe's newest poems when Holmes broke into my thoughts as he was wont to do.

"I quite agree Watson, Mr. Poe does seem a melancholy personage, but not I think to the extent your thinking." I made a nominal noise of agreement until I realized what he said and I started in my chair. "Holmes! I didn't know you started reading fiction. Well, this is indeed a surprise. How did you find the book? A trifle morbid perhaps, but-" He rose up a hand and cut off my tirade. In a weary tone he said, "Watson after all this time, could you know me so little? You know I don't clutter up my brain with such twaddle. Use my methods, and deduce as to how I could have known your thoughts?"

I hemmed and hawed as I strove to remember my previous actions until I gave up. "Holmes, I was sitting in this chair the whole time and to the best of my knowledge haven't moved an inch. What signs could I possibly have given?" Holmes smiled and leaned back in his armchair. "While your body was still, your face gave away much for the observer. Your eyes scarcely turned from your reading so I could deduce that it held your interest. Then at times, you would begin to show flashes of pain and sadness as you began to become more involved. Empathy at its finest. Then your eyes began to wander towards my little collection', he waved a hand lazily towards his collection of criminal profiles, 'yonder. I could only deduce then that some aspect of the story or author impressed you somewhat as to its character and thus. Elementary really."

I put my book down and addressed him directly. "Still, one must admit that crime, any crime must begin as a thought. Until finally, it finds some outlet and inevitably snaps. Wouldn't you say Holmes?" With a thoughtful expression, Holmes helped himself to the shag in the Persian slipper and after lighting his pipe, seemed to be miles away. I had thought after a while that he was in one of his moods and got up to retire when he spoke suddenly.

"Even a man, who is pure in heart and says his prayers by night, may become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the moon is shining bright." He turned his head to look at me and smiled. "There is chaos beneath what we call civilization Watson. And eventually, I believe that we shall see it. It's only a matter of time....."

I confess, I went to bed with a chill and slept uneasily until the morn.

The next day, I had all but forgotten the conversation and was helping myself to some of Mrs. Hudsons cooking when Holmes rang for her. As she came in, Holmes remarked to her "we'll have a visitor at the door and we need an extra plate. Please be so kind as to bring both of them when you get the door." As she bustled out, I looked at him quizzically and asked "how do you know we have a surprise visitor? Did they call ahead?" Holmes was digging into his meal with gusto when he looked up to answer. "When I hear an oscillating C above high C from a hansom cab at this hour, I know to expect-"

"-Inspector Lestrade to see you Mr. Holmes." It was indeed the good inspector, who thanking Mrs. Hudson began to eat with the air of a man who has fasted for some time. After a few bites, he looked across at Holmes and said "I know of your taste for queer cases Mr. Holmes, but for the life of me this one beats me hallow! One man murdered, and our only clue some queer scribble in blood." Holmes leaned across the table in anticipation. "And do you have a copy with you?" In reply, Lestrade pulled from his pocket a scrap of paper and passed it across. Holmes glanced at it and for once, I saw my friend completely thunderstruck. It was as though the blood had left his face and rendered him as pale as one of Madam Tussands wax-works. Throwing the paper down, he jumped up leaving his breakfast and called out "hurry Watson! The game is afoot!" As he rushed to put on his coat, I picked up the paper and read the sentence that so bothered my friend. To my bewilderment, it was indeed nothing more then gibberish which I reproduce here.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.


End file.
